


I Get Hot And Cold All Over

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, basically a modern domestic au, businessman!erik, daycare teacher!charles, family though, sick day, this cute goddamn little family kills me, where they're all still mutants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let it be known that Erik Lehnsherr is more of a child when he's sick than the actual children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Get Hot And Cold All Over

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by [Lauryn](http://ahwuhoo.tumblr.com/), and for [Lauryn](http://ahwuhoo.tumblr.com/). May the Force be with you, my child.
> 
> Title comes from ["I Feel The Earth Move"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbQ4m-NqeF8) by [Carole King](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoHuxpa4h48), because I'm just downright hilarious.

“No, shh, it’s okay,” Charles said reassuringly, trying to push calm, soothing waves into Wanda’s and Pietro’s minds simultaneously without accidentally sedating them. Wanda sniffled into his neck; Pietro tangled his small fingers in Charles’ dark hair. Charles sighed, trying to hold them both up while also shoving the key in the keyhole of the front door. He froze for a moment when the door unlocked and swung open of its own accord, then made his way inside.

“Erik?” Charles called, kicking the door shut behind him. Wanda started coughing again, and Charles shifted to better rub her back. Pietro peered around Charles’ head to look at her, then sneezed.

“In here,” Erik’s voice came back to him, and Charles sighed a second time. His voice was raspy, not so strong as it usually was. He followed the sound of Erik’s voice to their bedroom, where Wanda immediately reached out for him.

“Daycare ended early today,” Charles informed him, passing Wanda down to Erik where he was lying in bed. Wanda latched onto him automatically, twining her arms around his neck. Erik rubbed her back and looked back up at Charles. “I sent the children home early. Nobody was feeling well, seemed like the best idea to finish sooner rather than later.”

Erik raised an eyebrow at him, then looked down at Wanda. Charles sat down on the edge of their bed, Pietro still wrapped around him tightly. “I’m going to take a wild guess as to why I have the flu.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles said sincerely, looking down at Pietro. He leaned back enough to press the back of his hand to Pietro’s forehead, then began running his fingers through his silver hair. Charles shoved his free hand against his temple and projected as much calming, positive energy as he could into Wanda, Pietro, and now Erik as well. Erik visibly relaxed into the pillows.

“It’s not your fault,” Erik assured him tiredly. He turned his head away from Wanda and coughed again. Charles bounced his leg anxiously. “I’ll just stay here until I get better.”

Charles eyed him for a moment before he moved to take Wanda. Wanda whined sadly when he reached for her, tightening her grip on Erik, and Charles just sighed.

“You can stay here until I get your brother set up in the living room,” Charles told Wanda firmly. She nodded her head into Erik’s neck at the same time that Pietro vomited down Charles’ back. Charles paused for a moment, his eyes shut, before he sent a soothing wave to just Pietro to stop his crying just as it started. He stood from the bed.

“I’m going to clean him up and put him in the bath,” Charles said to Erik, “and then I’ll be back to clean this up and take Wanda.”

“I’m sorry,” Erik said, obviously only partially apologetic. Charles spared him the bitter look he desperately wanted to shoot his way _only_ because he was sick.

Charles left with Pietro, who was red-faced and hot to the touch but, luckily, not crying. He set him down on the tiled floor of the bathroom and stripped him down, then leaned over him to run the bathwater.

“Please don’t run anywhere,” Charles entreated. Pietro nodded and sat down on the floor, his back pressed against the tub, and Charles pressed a kiss to his forehead before he left again. He kept mental tabs on Pietro, just in case, as he made his way back into the master bedroom.

“She fell asleep,” Erik informed him, and Charles pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I couldn’t’ve been gone five minutes,” Charles said as he stripped the top layer of blankets from the bed and dragged them to the washing machine. When he returned, he paused in the doorway and raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t need you falling asleep on me, too,” he said, his voice slightly raised, and Erik started awake, jostling Wanda and waking her up, as well. Charles stepped forward, pulling Wanda away from Erik and holding her tightly against his chest.

“Sorry,” Erik mumbled, turning on his side to bury his face in the pillow. Charles leaned over, pulled Erik’s blankets up to his shoulders, and left him there to sleep. He deposited Wanda on the sofa in the living room, where she promptly fell asleep curled up in the corner, then returned to Pietro, who was nearly hopping up and down in place.

“Sorry, darling,” Charles apologized, shutting off the bathwater and lifting Pietro into it. “Are you feeling better?”

“Lil’ bit,” Pietro answered, grabbing at a bar of soap and promptly dropping it in the water, along with all the bottles lined up along the bathtub edge. Charles pressed his forehead against the edge, and Pietro laid his face down beside his and grinned. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, Pietro,” Charles replied, pushing their foreheads together before pulling away. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Pietro agreed enthusiastically, reaching into the water and resurfacing with three bottles. “Can we make bubbles?”

“Sure,” Charles approved, and Pietro’s eyes widened.

“The _fun_ way?” Pietro asked urgently. Charles pretended to deliberate, then popped open the cap on the bubble solution.

“The fun way,” Charles repeated, smiling, and Pietro nearly began to vibrate. He dumped some of the solution in the water and let Pietro dart back and forth, his movements virtually invisible, creating a bubbly froth. When he stopped, his little chest moving only a slight bit deeper than usual, he grinned widely at Charles and picked up two palm-fulls of bubbles.

“Daddy!” Pietro shrieked before shoving the bubbles in Charles’ face. Charles laughed and reached around Pietro to grab the children’s combo soap/shampoo bottle, scrubbing the boy down with it. Just as he was starting to rub the soap into Pietro’s hair, he felt Wanda’s mind flutter into consciousness in his mind. It was only a three-second warning before he heard her start to cry. Holding back a sigh, Charles rinsed out Pietro’s hair and grabbed the towel. He reached in and pulled Pietro out, wrapping him in the towel. He dried Pietro’s hair and crouched down to his level.

“Can I trust you in here while I take care of your sister?” Charles asked seriously, and Pietro nodded gravely. He sat down on the floor in his towel and stared up at Charles, and Charles kissed the crown of his head before standing up straight. He tested the cabinet under the sink to ensure it was locked before he left Pietro there. He hurried into the living room and scooped up Wanda, shushing her gently and running his fingers through her hair.

“Shh,” Charles murmured, holding her tightly. Wanda screamed near his ear, and Pietro wandered into the living room, dripping water onto the wood floor. Charles shifted Wanda to one side and held out his free hand to Pietro. “Come here, don’t slip.”

Pietro moved at an exaggeratedly slow pace, lifting his feet carefully until he got to Charles and slipped his hand into his father’s. Charles - carrying Wanda and leading Pietro - made his way to the Wanda’s room. He sat her down on the bed, then lifted Pietro up next to her.

“We’ll get you both into your pajamas, and then we’ll get you some medicine and lunch, okay?” Charles told them, and Wanda, calmed down to just sniffling, nodded. Pietro looked to his sister, then nodded, as well, though his movements were jerky and quick. Charles pat them both on the tops of their heads, then made his way into Pietro’s room through their shared doorway. He rummaged through the boy’s drawers until he found suitable pajamas for him, then returned, found Wanda’s pajamas, and stood in front of them on the bed.

“Who’s first?” Charles asked, and Wanda’s pajamas tugged themselves out of Charles’ hands. Charles laughed and set Pietro’s pajamas aside.

“Wanda it is,” Charles said. Wanda yawned and rubbed at her eyes, and the pajamas fell to the ground. He picked them up, crouched down, and helped Wanda into them, folding her slow, tired limbs into the sleeves of her top and the legs of her pants. As he buttoned up the pajama top, she yawned and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. He settled her on the floor against his side while he finished drying off Pietro and helping him into his pajamas.

“Who wants to watch cartoons while I make soup?” Charles asked, and Pietro grinned up at him.

“I do!” Pietro answered. Wanda made a snuffling sound against Charles’ thigh, and Pietro ducked down to look into his sister’s face. He peeked up at Charles. “She does, too.”

“Of course she does,” Charles agreed, picking them both up and carrying them out to the living room. He laid Pietro down on the sofa and Wanda down on the loveseat and tucked quilts around both of them. He flicked the TV on.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised them, and left them there. He started towards the kitchen, but was stopped by Erik’s presence in his mind. No words, just a pressure, pushing at the edges of his consciousness, and he sighed, taking a detour to their bedroom.

“I think I’m dying,” Erik admitted gravely. Charles tried his best not to smile as he came to Erik’s side and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached up and threaded his fingers through Erik’s sweat-damp dark hair.

“I’m fairly certain you’re not dying, love,” Charles assured him, and Erik shook his head.

“No, no, I’m sure,” Erik insisted. Charles leaned in and pressed a kiss to Erik’s forehead before standing, flicking the television in the corner on, and going to their bedroom door. Erik rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow.

“I’ll make you some soup, too,” Charles promised. “You watch your cartoons.”

“You’re not funny, and I hate you,” Erik mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. Charles allowed himself to grin and left the room. He was halfway through making a pot of broth-heavy soup when he felt Wanda in his mind. He grabbed a popcorn bowl from the cabinet and sprinted from the kitchen, making it into the living room just in time to help Wanda up into a sitting position and hold the bowl in front of her face when she vomited. Pietro was at his side in a second, peering up over the edge of the loveseat at his sister.

“I’m sorry,” Pietro said quietly, disappearing and reappearing a second later with Wanda’s favorite little red-and-green robot stuffed toy. He stuck it in between his sister and the sofa and stepped back, lingering at Charles’ side. When Wanda was finished, Charles stood, taking the bowl with him.

“Why don’t we move you in with Vati?” Charles suggested. Pietro bounced excitedly before darting to grab his quilt from the sofa and vanishing from the room in the next second. Charles set the bowl down on the low coffee table and lifted Wanda up gingerly, carrying her from the living room down to his bedroom, where Pietro had already made himself a nest beside Erik on the bed. Erik was staring blankly at his son before he looked up at Charles.

“Why?” Erik groaned, pushing his face back into the pillows. Charles set Wanda down at the head of the bed and pulled the blankets up around her.

“It keeps all the children in one spot,” Charles answered teasingly, kissing Erik’s forehead before he left again. He cleaned out the bowl and returned to his soup pot, scooping out four bowls and digging up a tray to carry them on. By the time he brought the soup to their bedroom, the children were asleep again. Pietro was talking nonsense a mile in a minute in his sleep, his small brow furrowed, while Wanda slept still like the dead. Erik tipped his head to the side to look at Charles as he approached.

“I might throw Pietro out the window,” Erik stated seriously. Charles tsked and set the tray down on their dresser.

“You know he talks in his sleep, leave him be,” Charles scolded. He brought one of the bowls and a spoon over to Erik and held them out; Erik just looked up at him sadly. Charles gestured to the bowl. “Metal bowl, metal spoon. You can feed yourself.”

Erik sighed, but shifted in bed until he was sitting up enough to take the bowl from Charles. Charles dragged a chair over to the bed, then reached out and lifted Pietro into his lap.

“Hello,” Charles said softly when Pietro blinked open his eyes. He pressed his forehead into Charles’ shoulder and whined, but Charles just stuck the soup bowl under him, and his whole face lit up. “Do you need help eating?”

“I’m okay!” Pietro insisted, grabbing the bowl and hopping off of Charles’ lap. He sat in the corner of the room, scooping up soup into his mouth so quickly the spoon seemed to vanish. Charles set to waking up Wanda next, gently nudging her on the bed, then lifting her into his lap.

“Do you want to eat?” Charles asked. Wanda stared at him, then squinted at the soup he reached over to pick up for her, even as she laid her head on his shoulder. “Do you want help?”

Wanda made a small, thoughtful humming noise, and Charles lifted the spoon to her mouth. She opened it obligingly, and Charles fed her the small bowl of soup, slowly and carefully. Erik and Pietro both finished before her - Pietro in minutes, slowed by the comments he stopped to make every few moments - but they waited patiently.

“How are you feeling, _liebling_?” Erik asked when Charles stood and set her back down on the bed. She crawled up to curl into Erik’s side.

“ _Schlecht_ ,” Wanda answered softly, burying her face in his chest. Pietro collected the three empty bowls and darted away, then reappeared empty-handed.

“Sink,” he answered, before Charles could ask. Charles nodded and continued eating from his own bowl as Pietro darted in and out of the room.

“I have a theory,” Charles said aloud to Erik as he ate, and Erik groaned dramatically.

“I’m sick. Isn’t that it’s own get-out-of-jail-free card?” Erik asked, and Charles narrowed his eyes at him.

“Illness is no excuse for rudeness,” Charles scolded. He pointed his spoon at Erik. “Be a better example for your children, why don’t you?”

“I’m a fine example,” Erik argued. “Right, Pietro?”

“Right!” Pietro exclaimed, launching himself onto the bed. His speed when he jumped caused the mattress to shift when he landed, and Wanda frowned up at him.

“All that aside, I still have a theory,” Charles began again, eating another spoonful of soup. “Pietro hardly ever gets sick, and, when he does, it’s rarely for very long. While he seems to have inherited your predisposition for mental illness and depression, physical illnesses never seem to really take hold. I think his immune system moves as fast as the rest of him, heals him up faster.”

“He didn’t heal very quickly when he broke his wrist,” Erik reminded him. Charles shrugged and set his bowl aside; Pietro leapt off the bed, grabbed the bowl and the tray, and vanished.

“Like I said, it’s a theory,” Charles said, holding out his arms and catching Pietro when the boy reentered the room. “I’m not a doctor. I just play one on TV.”

“Hilarious,” Erik deadpanned. Wanda made a quiet snoring sound, and Erik wrapped one arm around her. Charles stood, lifting Pietro with him.

“Why don’t all of you get some sleep,” Charles suggested, laying Pietro down beside his sister. He covered him with the quilt and shut off the television, and Erik shut his eyes.

Erik drifted in and out of consciousness in a restless sleep. When he woke up the first time, he blinked a couple times until Charles was clear in his vision. Charles smiled down at him.

“Go back to sleep,” Charles said quietly, and pressed something cool and damp and soft to Erik’s forehead, and Erik did as he was told. When he woke the second time, Charles was murmuring to Wanda, who was making whimpering sounds while Charles held her. Erik meant to move, or to say something, but he fell back asleep. When he woke a third time, it was only for a brief moment, but he saw Pietro scaling Charles’ back while Charles laughed and tried to continue what appeared to be a game of Battleship with Wanda. The fourth time, Charles made him drink awful grape-flavored medicine that must be for children, but Erik drifted off again before he could muster up the energy to protest.

Erik fell back asleep, and, when he awoke the fifth time, it seemed to be for good. Charles looked up from his book when Erik’s thoughts became conscious and coherent, and he smiled again, like he did the first time he woke up.

“Hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” Charles said softly, closing his book and setting it aside. Pietro was curled up in his lap, his head resting on Charles’ chest, and, when Erik shifted, he realized Wanda was, again, tucked up into Erik’s side. Both of them had fallen back asleep. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better,” Erik admitted. Charles grinned.

“You’re a big baby when you’re sick, you know,” Charles teased, and Erik rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see how much better you’ll be,” Erik taunted back, and Charles just stuck his tongue out and leaned back in his chair. He ran his fingers absently through Pietro’s silver hair, and Erik was struck for a moment by how lucky he was. Charles smiled.

“Very lucky,” Charles reminded him, and Erik shook his head.

“Just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Erik asked jokingly, and Charles shrugged.

“Go back to sleep,” Charles instructed, changing the course of the conversation. “You need rest and fluids, but I can’t exactly get up and get you water right now, so drink your Gatorade and go back to bed.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Erik argued back, albeit weakly, even as he moved - gingerly, careful not to disturb Wanda - to lift his bottle of Gatorade from the bedside table. “You’re not my mother.”

“Thank God for that.” Charles shifted slightly and grinned, then rubbed at his temples. “I think I may just get some rest, as well.”

“What’d I tell you?” Erik said, and Charles waved him off.

“I’m fine,” Charles assured him. He gestured at Erik. “Back to sleep with you.”

Erik shrugged and slid back down in bed, pulling Wanda closer. He pressed a kiss to her chestnut hair and went back to sleep.

* * *

“What’d I tell you?” Erik said again. Charles glanced at Wanda and Pietro, whose backs were turned, before he flipped Erik off, then pulled the quilt over his head. Erik sighed, sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled the quilt edge back away from Charles’ face.

“You’re very sore when you’re right,” Charles informed him, his face flush with fever. Erik nodded knowingly and grinned.

“I’m well aware,” Erik assured him. He pressed a cool washcloth to Charles’ forehead, as Charles had done for him, and definitely did _not_ jump when Pietro appeared suddenly beside him on the bed.

“Vati, you’re scary when you smile,” Pietro told Erik seriously, and Charles laughed so hard it dissolved into a coughing fit.

“Wanda, smack your brother for me,” Erik instructed, and Charles’ hand darted out to grab Wanda’s wrists.

“Never listen to your father,” Charles ordered the twins, and both of them nodded. Erik sighed.

“You’re an awful father,” Erik told him. “Honestly. _Awful_.” Even as he said it, he unwillingly thought of Charles, of how legitimately _good_ he was, how much better he was at taking care of them than Erik himself was, and Charles gave him a shit-eating grin.

“Sure I am,” Charles replied easily. “And so are you.”

“I’m gonna throw up again,” Pietro declared, and, when Charles sat up, Pietro stood on the bed. “It’s because you two are gross.”

“You’re not funny, Pete,” Wanda told him seriously, and Pietro backflipped off the bed and chased his sister out of the room, both of them screaming all the way.

“Maybe we’re both awful,” Erik allowed, and Charles pulled the quilt back over his head.

“Leave me here to die,” Charles pleaded, and Erik yanked the quilt down again.

“Not without me,” Erik replied, and Charles frowned, his brow furrowing.

“See, that doesn’t make any sense, because it means you’d be-”

“God, do you _ever_ stop?” Erik asked. The question was clearly rhetorical, and Charles, of course, meant to answer anyways, but any response he may have had was swallowed by Erik.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
